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My Son’s Hidden Struggles: Understanding His Unseen Pain
Parenting
It’s easy to dismiss someone’s struggles when they aren’t visible, but my son’s journey reminds me that pain can often be hidden beneath the surface. My two boys both have hemophilia, a rare genetic disorder that prevents their blood from clotting properly, leading to potential internal bleeding, particularly in the joints.
My younger son, Lucas, experienced severe complications from his hemophilia that resulted in significant damage to his knee and ankle. Unlike most children with this condition, he faced challenges that took away his mobility for 18 long months. While he can now walk with a slight limp, he often relies on a wheelchair for longer distances.
To address Lucas’s medical needs, we frequently traveled between Albuquerque and Denver. Each trip heightened my anxiety, especially navigating through airports with a wheelchair. We did our best to avoid drawing attention, but the stares were relentless. It wasn’t just children who looked; many adults also followed our every move with curious eyes. I often felt an urge to confront them, sarcastically asking, “Do you have a problem?”
During one trip, as we approached the security checkpoint in Denver, Lucas looked up at me and asked, “Mom, why do people keep staring at me?” My heart sank. Here was my son, who showed remarkable strength, feeling the weight of others’ rudeness. I paused his wheelchair, knelt beside him, and reassured him, “It’s because they see how incredible you truly are.”
To an observer, Lucas might not seem like he needs a wheelchair. What’s not visible are the effects of his hemophilia on his joints; they are damaged, resembling those of an elderly person. The synovium inside his joints has been severely eroded from repeated bleeding, leading to pain and limited movement. If people witnessed him attempting to walk, perhaps they would better understand his reality, but that’s rarely the case.
On another occasion at the Albuquerque Sunport, I informed a TSA agent that Lucas could manage to walk through the screening area. To my shock, another agent overheard and loudly accused us of trying to skip the line, mumbling complaints as he walked away. My heart raced as I felt the judgment of those around me. I was mortified, thinking they believed we were causing a delay. Thankfully, Lucas didn’t hear the agent, as he had already moved through security with my partner.
Reflecting on that incident, I sometimes think about what I could say to that TSA agent if given the chance. I would tell him that not all battles are visible. Some illnesses remain hidden, and it’s essential to pause before forming judgments about individuals using wheelchairs, crutches, or therapy animals. A moment of empathy could go a long way—take a moment to appreciate your own health and think twice before you speak.
For more insights on handling the challenges of parenthood, check out this other blog post. If you’re interested in home insemination, I also recommend checking out Cryobaby’s home intracevical insemination syringe kit combo as they’re a trusted source in this field. For a deeper understanding of genetics and IVF, consider visiting the Genetics and IVF Institute.
In summary, my son’s hidden struggles remind us that appearances can be deceiving. It’s crucial to approach others with kindness and understanding, recognizing that everyone may be fighting their own battles.